a family drifting
by lozzy-beth
Summary: Story of the Maloney family after the sinking
1. Chapter 1

Because I thought there should be a story about the Maloney's.

It's a pretty predictable 'happily ever after' but hey.

I own nothing.

"Little girl. Hello! LITTLE GIRL" Peter is beginning to wonder if its worth it, he spent so long helping the Italians the farther has already found her, but with his new found sense of heroism he continues.

"Hey, Da, what's that?"

"What's what?" her farther whispers into her hair.

"I think I can hear someone"

Jim thinks hard about his next answer, trying not to let his daughter be too disheartened by the idea of the other dammed souls crying out for help. "S'just the water playing tricks on you mi darlin', it sounds like voices when it flows"

"LITTLE GIRL, MR MALONEY!" Jim now realises as the voice gets closer. He recognises that voice and even considers keeping quiet, but as he pulls back to look at the face of his eldest child, that beautiful scared face that he remembers looking so intently upon when it first came into the world. He decides that swallowing his pride is better than her swallowing icy water. "Hello!" he replies.

"MR MALONEY! MR MALONEY!"

"YES."

"KEEP TALKING MR MALONEY, WHERE ARE YOU?"

"BY THE GRATE, WE CARNT UNLOCK IT!" By now the he is stood up and notices that the water has risen to Theresa's hips, she stands there, ever quiet, shaking a little. He bends to pick her up and swings her to his hip to keep her out of the water for as long as possible. She is heavy in his arms, long gone are the days when he used to carry her, aided by the wetness of her cloths and his exhaustion. He stands firm, the strength coming from he knows not where. When he turns around Peter is stood franticly trying to unlock the great with what appears to be a sort of wire. It is soon wrenched open and all three are running for the deck, Jim not entirely knowing where he is going but trusting his feet to take him to where he needs to be, on the boat on which he knows every nook and cranny.

The rest is a blur. The next thing he remembers he is floating in freezing waters without a buoyancy aid. Theresa is still clinging to him, her lifebelt the only thing keeping them afloat, and he can see the lights on the ship as it goes down _at least my workmanship is not at fault _he thinks coolly. His attention is then seized by the sobbing on his shoulder and he looks around for somewhere to go. There is a small light bobbing in the distance. Before he realises he is swimming towards it and says a silent, thankful, prayer for the man that insisted all his dock working employees where taught how to swim all those years ago in Dublin. He now sees that the light is attached to a boat and he continues more franticly still holding Theresa who is still got her arms wrapped so tightly around him. He feels himself drift from his body only to return again to a pain in every part of him over and over again. He hears himself cry out for help, for someone to save his child, but he does not remember trying to speak, like his body has been taken over. The boat is close now and they call out to him.

Everything drifts once more, into darkness.


	2. Chapter 2

Since reaching New York on the Carpathia her main goal had been to find a safe place, for her children at least to stay. There had been so much controversy around the sinking that a huge crowd had come to witness the survivors, many offering help in whatever way they could. Being a group of four, with three young children, it was difficult to find someone to take them in. Though many where sympathetic and offered food and money no one seemed to be able to care for such a heavy burden.

That was until Sean had somehow slipped from her protective grasp, once again, and wandered off. With the tightest of holds on Allen's and Melissa's hands as she retraced the street they had just gone down. There at the other side of the street she saw Sean carrying a box of roses and an elderly lady carrying two similar packages. She hurried across the road to meet them as they had stopped by a door to a florist which the lady was attempting to open with boxes still in hand. Her mind was flooded with memories. Of when she spent hours pouring over books of flowers and their meanings, she had been obsessed with gardening from a young age when her mother would ask her and her sister to help keep the small bit of land behind their family pub 'full of life'. Of how she fell in love with the language of flowers. And of how she fell in love with the man who bought them for her. This sudden sombre thought revived her from her reverie and she continued to pursue her eldest son.

When she reached them, they where already inside the shop and the lady was bent down talking to Sean. Standing in the doorway she felt compelled to say something but was conscious of what the woman may think of her, allowing her child to wonder off like that. The lady then turned round and handed him one of the roses. He then turned and almost skipped out of the shop, colliding into Allen as he did so. When he looked up to see his family he beamed and held his hand up to his mother, offering her the rose. She let out a small smile at his thoughtfulness and forced an even bigger one as not to upset him. She appreciated the thought but looking down on him now, all she saw was his farther.

Seemingly sensing her unease the old lady interrupted the silence, "What a wonderful young gentleman you've got there." she smiled sweetly. She seemed genuine enough but without her rock from which she drew strength Mary was lost for words. So the old lady continued "You know how many people passed a struggling old women carrying a heavy load and never stopped to help?" she said in a thick Brookline accent. Mary was still dumbstruck. "And what would such a young man want in return, money, candy (she gestured to a small stand on the counter, bearing all kinds of lollypops)? No. He wants a flower for his mommy." She smiled again. This time it was Sean that spoke out "It always used to make you happy when Da got you them." he chided. Her façade broke at hearing her child talk about Jim in the past tense. "My dear are you quite alright? You seem to have gone a bit peaky." the women said, oblivious to the affect of the young child's comment. "Tell you what dear, why don't you come up to flat and I'll make you a coffee and you can sit down?" this was given as a question but was obviously an instruction and as all three children looked up eagerly at the chance of a sit down Mary complied and followed the women up the narrow staircase concealed by a door at the far right hand corner of the shop. "Or would you prefer tea, you sound British, I think I have some tea, how about tea… now where is it?" she trailed off towards the end seemingly talking to herself as Mary imagined Jim's face after being told 'they sound British' which in fact they where, to his displeasure. "Oh and (she stopped in the middle of the stairwell, causing all five of them to walk into each other) I'm Constance by the way, but that sounds to pretentious, so call me Connie."

"Mary," Mary whispered barley audible to the old women "Mary Maloney and this is Sean, Allen and Melissa. (she gestured to each of the children in turn) and…" she trailed off as she realised there where no other names to add to their introduction. Connie seemed to see the look of loss in her eyes, gave her a knowing look of sympathy and continued walking.


	3. Chapter 3

Once again she glanced at the clock on the wall, in all her life Mary had never known time go so slow. She wanted to rush, it was quarter of an hour to closing time and as it was a practically cold April evening and they never usually had customers this late. She reasoned however, that even if she got to the hospital early, they probably wouldn't let people in outside the allotted hours. Once again she rearranged some of the bouquets in the window. She enjoyed this job, she had not worked since she became engaged to Jim, and she was very grateful to Connie for giving her the job and one of the two flats above the shop. Connie lived in the top one as she said all the stairs keep her fit and healthy and Mary and the children shared the bottom one, which had previously been rented out, rent free. Mary worked in the shop as way of rent though Connie usually gave her a more than generous salary as well. To make up for this in her own conscience Mary did a lot of Connie's house work for her as well.

During these times they would talk non-stop. They seemed to compliment each other, Mary's quietness and Connie's vibrant personality. They both enjoyed the cinema, when money would allow, both loved flowers and children and dancing and both came from a families owning pubs and had started working at the bar. And both had lost their husbands.

So it was times like this that Mary wished she did not have to make deliveries on Fridays. The clock turned ten too and Mary decided to lock up ten minutes early and take a slow walk to the hospital.


	4. Chapter 4

She arrived at the hospital just as they were letting the group through to the ward which had been sectioned off. Her heart pounded. There were people there that she recognised, both walking and wounded, though she did not fully take in anyone in particular. Scouring all the faces, she desperately searched for familiar features, there where two faces she longed to see and one she dreaded.

The ward was now filling up and it was getting hard to move. Nurses uselessly tried to usher people around, all the pushing and shoving and the hustling combined with the bright hospital lights, the sound of people ordering other people to be calm and wait in line and the desolate cries of those that could not find their loved ones brought the memories of that most dreadful night crashing down on her. She'd lost them once, she wasn't going to loose them again. She forced her way through the hysterical crowd. They were here she could feel it. It was a mother's intuition. They were here, they had to be. This was her last hope; she had to find them here. _What if they're not? _Her mind betrayed her, _no _she thought _if I don't find them here I'll have to go find them on some make shift morgue of an ice rink in Halifax. And if I don't find them there, I'll never find them._

She could not see them. Just as that morbid thought made home in the pit of her stomach, something caught her eye. There on the bed closest to the window, right at the very back of the ward on the side she was walking up, there was an abundance of bright red hair attached to a small, pale body. She fought even harder to get through.

Once she reached her daughter she took her hand and broke down crying. Crying at the relief and happiness in finding her child and also at the terror of seeing her so fragile. She just stood there, clutching her baby's hand, rubbing circles on the back, just as she had done when she was little.

She did not know how long she had been like that; it felt like hours but also just a few fleeting seconds. The next thing she knew a young nurse was stood next to her, one hand on her shoulder and one hand holding a clipboard and pen. Her feet where throbbing and the room was only occupied by small clusters of people gathered around a few of the beds, sure signs she had in fact been there a long time. The nurse gave her a reassuring smile and a small squeeze to the shoulder before moving her hand, swapping the clipboard over and poising the pen. "Are you a friend or relative?"

"Her mother." Mary chocked.

"May I ask a few questions?" the nurse said offering Mary a hankie from her pinafore pocket. Mary nodded weakly and gratefully took the hankie and dried her eyes. "Does she have a name?" _well of course she does _her head snapped.

"Theresa, Theresa Maloney." She sniffed, trying to regain her composure, she was not one to let other people see her emotions, in fact she only ever remembered crying in front of her parents, sister, best friend and Jim.

"How old is she?"

"Nine." The nurse went on to scrawl on the clipboard.

"Date and place of birth?"

"Belfast general hospital, 10th May 1901"

"Place of residence, if known, if not any contact details?"

"Flat A 'Bloomin' lovely' on 39th"

"Thank you. There should be a doctor present shortly to answer any questions you may have." and with a small nod of the head she was gone, leaving Mary with her thoughts and her unconscious daughter.

There was no clock in the ward and she was starting to wonder how long she'd been there and whether or not Connie was still ok looking after the other three children. A rush of cold hit her and sent shivers down her spine as she realised that she had not found Jim. Did he not find her? Her stomach churned, she felt sick and light headed. She had pined so much hope on finding them both here safe and well, perhaps a little worse for wear but alive. She had convinced herself he would come back to her. _Maybe this is God punishing you for what you did to him, for betraying him _she wished her head would shut up after all it was just a kiss. By now she was leaning on the wall panting heavily, trying to overcome the sudden tirade of emotions. _But wait, you haven't checked that side of the ward yet. _

All thoughts were pushed out as the small number of people standing in the room became an unruly rabble as a man in a doctor's coat came in. All of them talking over each other, desperate for answers. Mary looked down at her child, pale but peaceful, seemingly asleep but not rousing and she too joined the cacophony of voices. The doctor explained in the best way he could that all conscious patients had been moved out and that if you're relative was in this room then they where in a coma induced by hypothermia and that there was no way of telling when and if any of them would wake up. She could only take so much in and returned to Theresa's bedside where she remained until some of the nurses came in to tell everyone to go home. She kissed her daughter's cheek before she left and when she turned she saw through the window that it was pitch black outside.

Then, on her way out something, or rather someone on the opposite side of the room near the door caught her eye. There he was his mouth parted slightly, oh how she wanted to kiss that mouth. Slight stubble was already beginning to form on his well chiselled chin. She ran to him, put her arms around him, buried her face into his neck, closed her eyes and breathed him in. He was intoxicating. 


	5. Chapter 5

The next two months went by in a blur of work, school runs and hospital visits and the stress was starting to show. She was being sick almost every day and the constant exercise made her almost always hungry, which was a problem because money was short and she was alone in feeding four mouths as well as hospital fees. There were several charities dedicated to helping the survivors and of coarse she had Connie there as wee, for these facts Mary was exceedingly grateful, but it was times like now when she was preparing dinner with Melissa whining about something at her feet and Sean and Allen bickering at the table after an eight hour shift, two visits too the hospital and picking the kids up from school that she really appreciated having Jim. He worked longer shifts than she did, he worked harder more physically taxing shifts than she did but he would always entertain the children while she did the cooking, despite the fact that that usually meant running around playing tag for half an hour. She had always marvelled at how much energy he had, he would run around after them with seemingly boundless energy. And of course, she would always complain to him as he flopped onto the settee and reached for his paper, that he never did anything to help.

They ate as the usually did, in silence. The causes for this being her recent foul temper, the loss of their most talkative family member and the fact that thy where all pretty much famished and paid much more attention to their plates.

With dinner finished Mary went on to wash the dishes another chore that Jim had previously done without any recognition, Melissa offered to dry the dishes and, not wanting to be left out, Sean and Allen put them away. They had just about finished when Allen asked "Why do you keep going to the hospital Ma?" Melissa and Sean gave each other a worried look, she had explained to them but thought Allen to young.

"Because your Da and sister are sleeping there" she said softly.

"I thought you said they went to heaven" the turn of conversation was visibly upsetting the other two so she sent them to their room to tidy up and do homework, even if they didn't have any, and sat Allen down on the worn out settee, crouching down in front of him so her face was level with his.

"I thought they had, but you know how strong your Da is and how stubborn Teresa is."

"How come we never gone to see them like when grandma was in hospital?"

"Because darlin' their not ill like grandma was." this seemed to puzzle him.

"How are they ill then?"

It took her awhile to explain in a way she hoped he'd understand. Lying in bed that night she made a silent promise to herself that she would take the children next time she went to the hospital. She had originally said she wouldn't, she thought it would upset them too much especially as the doctors where uncertain of their conditions. But Allen's naivety had shown her their need for understanding.

_AN- Sorry it took so long to upload; I know my chapters are usually short but this ones even more so. I'm bit stuck for ideas, help welcome._


	6. Chapter 6

The evening was cold and she pulled the children closer to her as they shuffled and shivered their way through the crowded New York streets to get to the hospital. By now she no longer needed to ask the way at the reception desk, she could walk it in her sleep. As they neared the ward they were cornered by one of the nurses with a big smile plastered on her face. Mary had been waiting for this news for so long she could hardly believe it. Teresa was awake. Her beautiful, strong, stubborn little baby had come back to her. Despite the warnings of possible long term damage and amnesia, she had pulled through and that was all that mattered. She practically ran to her daughter's bedside. "Hello Mammy." she smiled weakly, her voice horse and quiet, little over a whisper.

"Hello my darlin'" Mary could feel the tears pricking her eyes. There were three little pairs of hands tugging at her skirts, he stepped aside so Melissa could she her sister, lifted Sean up to sit on the bed and pulled Allen up to her hip so he could also see better. Her heart soared for the first time in ages as her girls hugged and her eldest son looked on protectively. Little Allen buried his face in her neck and she could feel him smiling as he excitedly kicked his legs, he was getting too big for her to carry but it was a special occasion. The four of them where soon lost in conversation and the usually quiet Melissa takes the place of her sister, leading the conversation. She takes this opportunity to set Allen down on the bed next to his brother, who lays an arm round his neck and shoulders without looking up from the conversation, and crosses the ward to find Jim. He is how he was, how he has seemingly always been and Mary is beginning to wonder if all those flowers and dances and trips to Dublin, leaving the kids with his parents while they go to the Volta, where all just dreams. She once again takes hold of his hand, large and padded as always but without his strong grip and the gentle caress of his thumb. His hand is warm but feels cold in hers as it does not radiate the heat it once did. Many would blame Teresa for her husband's current state, many of the people who she told her story to did, but she blamed herself. She should have stopped Teresa from leaving the lifeboat, she should have tried harder and she shouldn't have kissed that wicked man, she shouldn't have done that to Jim and she shouldn't have lied about it to him either.

She remembered the look in his eyes, the rage, the jealousy, the hurt. She hurt him. Everything he had done for her and she hurt him. She remembered the unconvinced look he gave her when she told him it was him she wanted, why couldn't he see how much he meant to her? Why couldn't she have seen what he meant to her? His eyes were now shut, he couldn't show any emotions, he couldn't see anything, and he might never open them again his beautiful brown eyes.

A small hand took her free one. She looked down to see Sean looking up at her, she couldn't loose hope for their sake, she couldn't give them false hope either, she could really use Jim's advice right now. She laid Jim's hand down to rest on his chest on top of the covers, as he had every night for as long as she'd known except now she was not resting her head on his other arm which would snake down to her back and press a warm hand there, her face nuzzled into his neck. There where always nights one of them, usually her, would face away from the other one after an argument or a disagreement but they would always wake up the same in the morning. Everything was always OK in the morning.

She lead Sean away and towards Teresa's bed, she knew they would want to see their Da but she didn't think she was up to seeing the upset on their little faces, not after the great news of Teresa.

The time flew by as the little family sat there together, occasionally talking, filling in missed events but skipping all the grizzly bits, but mainly just sitting and lying there, enjoying being in each others company. Eventually the time came when the nurses would sweep all the visitors out of the hospital. Mary sent the children near the door to but on their discarded hats, coats and gloves while she bent down, kissed Teresa's cheek, stroked her hair and told her she would be back again tomorrow. Just before she could stand up she heard her daughter whisper "Where's Da?" the pain in her little girls voice was unbearable.

"He's over there darlin', he's in a bed over there (she pointed in the direction of the bed near the door, though she knew Teresa would never be able to see it lying down) don't you worry about him." Teresa could see through her mother's charade, she could always tell when people were lying.

"Is he awake, can I see him, can I talk to him?" hope shining in her eyes, she knew the possibility was slim but she had to know. The saddened expression on her Ma's face told her everything.

"Not yet." Once again Mary bent down, kissed her cheek and said "I'll be back to see you tomorrow."

"Do you blame me Ma, it's my fault isn't it?" Mary's blood ran cold.

"No, of course not darlin', of course not, don't you ever go thinking that."

_AN- Have I got Allen and Sean the wrong way round?_


	7. Chapter 7

I'm a big Tom Hiddleston fan, let's face it who isn't? I also love Michael Morpurgo so obviously I love the film. Captain Nicholls is so nice and deserves a happy ending. Probably not historically accurate or 100% true to the book but it's along those lines. I own nothing.

When he left Cambridge he wanted to become a lawyer and help bring more justice to the world, even if it was only in a small way. Unfortunately a stupid family tradition meant that he had to become an officer in the army. He had somehow managed to convince his Papa that he would start a humble private like everyone else that enlisted. As expected His lordship lieutenant general James Tarquin Oswald Nicholls did not understand, men of there station paid for commission and that was a fact.

The only good thing that came out of this bargain was that his farther had insisted on him joining the same cavalry regiment as his ancestors, and this suited James Jr fine. He loved horses and in training they had all been given the 'nasty' jobs such as mucking out the horses and polishing all the higher officers' brass. However while most of his comrades complained seemingly endlessly about these tasks, he positively enjoyed them, the quality time with the horses and the better understanding of the menial day to day tasks forced upon the domestic staff at home where great eye openers for him. Whenever he had a break from such tasks, running exercises, inspections and such like (which was not very often) he would concoct great fairy tales of letters home. To his Papa he would write reams of the right honourable 'gentlemen' in which he had the good fortune to share barracks with and of his eagerness to show anyone with the audacity to oppose the British army what was coming to them. To his Mama and his sister dearest Elizabeth he would tell of the easiness of his work, the goodness of his food and the comfort of his barracks. All these sentiments would occasionally be repeated to old school friends should they enquire after his health. He relayed some of the truths to one of his closest friends from boyhood and the object of his sister's affection, Jamie Stewart, who happened to also be in the cavalry. It was an unspoken agreement between Jamie and himself that they were not to address each other as dear friends unless alone as Jamie had gotten his commission as officer cadet and James did not want the other privets learning of his true privileged background, should they look less kindly upon him.

There was only one person he told his full predicament to, the only person he had ever really revealed the extent of his feelings and political views to, Tom. Tom was his best friend, and the family chauffeur. He had no idea when this unlikely bond came into being but he did know that Tom was the only person he felt could truly listen to and value his opinions, and he hoped the feeling was mutual. They were a similar age, both loved to read, both loved politics, both loved history, had younger sisters of a similar age and both adored horses. Tom, whose surname had long since been dropped from their conversations, was Irish and though he tried hard to be both brutally honest and tactful with the son of his employer could not disguise the venom in his voice when he spoke of the British forces and how they imprisoned his beloved homeland. That's why when James had revealed his plan to join the cavalry, they had stopped talking. This didn't, however, prevent James from writing to him in hope that they could renew their friendship. Sure enough the replies he got where full of concern and well wishes along with the odd gripe at class or political differences that had been common to them before the falling out.

But it was now, writing this letter, that he was unsure if their seemingly unbreakable bond could in fact be broken. He wrote and rewrote the letter several times, but in the end settled on something close to what he had in the beginning. After his enthusiasm to work had been realised he had soon risen the ranks to become Corporal Nicholls and was now ready to be sent to his first real place of conflict. He had hoped his time in the army would be like his father's, largely uneventful, though he was told many stories of the boar wars and such he wondered how much action he had actually seen. Alas this was not to be, he was to be shipped off to Ireland where he was to enforce a regime in the name of king and country in a country that did not want them there, and in his opinion had good reason not to want them. He was in charge of a small group of men, men not his 'section' of four soldiers, men. Too often he had heard army personnel be referred to as just a number, as was the 'collateral damage' in the debriefing. And as he was watching the transporters being loaded with guns, he couldn't help but wonder _did Tom know any of the 'collateral damage'? _He knew how opinionated Tom was and would hedge a bet most of his friends and family where as well. He knew his older sister had been shot as a child, on Christmas no less. The whole family had been there, his parent, his younger sister, his three brothers, his four cousins, grandparents, aunties, uncles and he all witnessed the bullet shatter the window and pierce her fragile skull. The officer responsible wasn't even sentenced as the family couldn't afford a lawyer and the judge had quite obviously been bribed, dubbing it an 'accident' as the officer had been extremely drunk and had even had the good grace to offer to have the window replaced, which was obviously turned down. A window, the price of a child's life. It was injustices like that that made him even more determined to become a lawyer after his obligatory bout in the army. It had obviously had an effect on Tom, he had only ever mentioned it once as explanation why a young, usually outgoing, catholic refused to celebrate Christmas in any way. And even then he seemed unwilling to reveal all the details. 


	8. Chapter 8

Months past and Teresa was eventually aloud home on a permanent basis, it was a squeeze, the four children shared a room, the girls in one bed and the boys in another. There were families just as poor as in Ireland in America and the children had friends who shared a bed with siblings, parents and grandparents. They wee luckily not one of hose families. She slept alone and though sometimes one of the children would ask to come in, usually Allen or Teresa, the bed felt empty. She didn't want to admit it to anyone but at night she would pile the blankets together and wrap her arms and legs round them, as if they were Jim.

Her stomach grew ominously larger and at first she resented it. It wasn't until her first hospital visit alone since the kids started coming, that Mary realised what this tiny life was. It was a gift from God and, more importantly, Jim. She had gotten to the point now where she had to start making plans for the arrival. Connie had gifted her a crib, with money she didn't have, her sister and Jim's mother both sent money, which they also hand none to spare, and she was so touched. Her evenings where spent knitting and even the children offered to help, though there was no real way they could. The arrival itself had been planned at least; she had made friends with some of the nurses during her visits to the hospital and had asked one of the trainee midwives, Eve, to be her birthing partner, she needed some experience and lord knew Mary had enough of it for the both of them. And Connie would look after the children upstairs.

The only thing she needed now was a name. If it were a girl she wanted to call it Cathleen but she knew Jim had always loved the name Saoirse. If it where a boy Jim would have called it Fionn but she hated it, since she was a girl she had always loved the name James. Jim was a James and so was his father, he hated it, and that's why he always insisted on being Jim. _But Jim isn't here, would his opinion really matter?_ She scalded herself for thinking that. _Of coarse it matters, he's it's Da, and just because he's not here now doesn't mean he wont be._


	9. Chapter 9

Jim was not there the day James Finley Maloney arrived. She finally understood how many of the mothers she spoke to felt. It was not considered right to have a man in the delivery room but that never stopped Jim, the midwife was too late when Teresa was born and Jim had to step up, since then he had been there for all the other births. James was smaller than Teresa and Sean at four ponds three ounces, only an ounce bigger than Allen and three more than Melissa, yet he had hurt the most. There were no reassuring words in her ear, no strong hand to hold, no soft kisses in her hair. Obviously Eve did as much of the first two as she could but she was too busy with the business end to offer the sort of support Jim had with the youngest three. There were no kisses, the hand holding was fleeting and not as firm and the words of encouragement didn't sound as comforting.

Little James was placed on her chest, wrapped up but was yet to be cleaned. Mary looked down at the tiny babe and felt that overpowering rush of love. She had gone through all the motions during pregnancy dread, at having another drain on her income as well as a drain on her physical strength, worry, that she would not be able to look after it properly, thankfulness, at a gift from Jim, grief for the reminder of the husband she could loose at any moment and eventually guilt, at all the previously mentioned emotions.

Now he was not a drain, he was properly looked after and he was more than a gift, he was her child. That tiny face, with that wrinkly forehead and strong protruding chin all toped off by wisps of muddy blonde hair complete with bold patch. He was the spitting image of his father. "Hello little one, I'm your Mammy." She cooed rocking him slightly. Eve came to take him off her, to clean the two of them up before any of the children came in and she reluctantly let her, too tired to argue.

Needless to say they were all instantly besotted with their little brother, none more than Teresa. She had spent the last few months talking to the bump and every other sentence was 'when I have children'. Mary couldn't help but smile, she was exactly the same, her sister Molly had always complained about cooking and sewing and had even struggled when she first had little George but from the day her parents gave her her first doll Mary was a natural mother. She could see a slight glint of sadness in her eyes as she held her new born brother and guessed it had something to do with his striking resemblance to his father. There was also a sadness to Connie, she knew that she had longed for a child but it was not to be, her husband had passed away before she got the chance. "What a handsome wee fellow you are (she laughed) I can't work out if you look like a really youngun' or a really old man." Seeing the look of pride, joy and sadness on the face of the women she had come to view as a mother figure made her truly grateful for all she had, even if they were a pain sometimes.

It took awhile to get the children to go to bed that night, they were too excited to settle. It was only once she had gotten into bed herself, James safely tucked into her arm suckling at her breast, that she felt well and truly ant peace with herself and the world around her. She smiled. For the first time in what seemed like forever, she well and truly smiled.


	10. Chapter 10

Mary settled herself down in the chair one of the nurses had brought over, "Now this is James," she picked up her child from the pram and sat him on her knee, he squealed as she did so "and this is your Da." A rather podgy little fist reached out to Jim, it was almost as if he understood. This was not how she wanted them to meet, she wanted to wait until Jim woke up. Four months and no sign of changes later she eventually decided it was better than nothing.

She moved Jim's arm slightly. Being careful to make sure his shoulder was supporting the head, she placed little James in the space created. They looked so at peace together. Eventually James's big blue eyes, which were already showing signs of the green and gold speckles that would inevitably result in them going brown, began to close. Never had she seen two people look so alike. Not only did they have the same features but the same expression, blank, eyes shut, mouths slightly open with their heads tilted slightly to the left, asleep.

* * *

_AN- hope you enjoyed it, please review. Thinking of doing a follow up if anyone's interested let me know._


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